Thereupon Jenny, placing the towel on a linen-horse, took the handle of the pump with both hands and pumped over my head as handmaid had never pumped before; so that the water poured in torrents from my head, my face, and my hair down upon the brick floor. And after the lapse of somewhat more than a minute, I called out with a half-strangled voice, "Hold, Jenny!" and Jenny desisted. I stood for a few moments to recover my breath, then taking the towel which Jenny proffered, I dried composedly my hands and head, my face and hair; then, returning the towel to Jenny, I gave a deep sigh and said, "Surely this is one of the pleasant moments of life." _George Borrow_,--"_Lavengro_." The Snowdon Ranger I quickened my steps, and soon came up to the two individuals. One was an elderly man, dressed in a smock frock, and with a hairy cap on his head. The other was much younger, wore a hat, and was dressed in a coarse suit of blue, nearly new, and doubtless his Sunday's best. He was smoking a pipe. I greeted them in English, and sat down near them. They responded in the same language, the younger man with considerable civility and briskness, the other in a tone of voice denoting some reserve. "May I ask the name of this lake?" said I, addressing myself to the young man, who sat between me and the elderly one. "Its name is Llyn Cwellyn, sir," said he, taking the pipe out of his mouth. "And a fine lake it is." "Plenty of fish in it?" I demanded. "Plenty, sir; plenty of trout and pike and char." "Is it deep?" said I. "Near the shore it is shallow, sir, but in the middle and near the other side it is deep, so deep that no one knows how deep it is." "What is the name," said I, "of the great black mountain there on the other side?" "It is called Mynydd Mawr, or the Great Mountain. Yonder rock, which bulks out from it, down the lake yonder, and which you passed as you came along, is called Castell Cidwm, which means Wolf s rock or castle." "Did a wolf ever live there?" I demanded. "Perhaps so," said the man, "for I have heard say that there were wolves of old in Wales." "And what is the name of the beautiful hill yonder, before us across the water?" "That, sir, is called Cairn Drws y Coed," said the man. "The stone heap of the gate of the wood," said I. "Are you Welsh, sir?" said the man. "No," said I, "but I know something of the language of Wales. I suppose you live in that house?" "Not exactly, sir; my father-in-law here lives in that house, and my wife with him. I am a miner, and spend six days in the week at my mine, but every Sunday I come here, and pass the day with my wife and him." "And what profession does he follow?" said I; "is he a fisherman?" "Fisherman!" said the elderly man contemptuously, "not I. I am the Snowdon Ranger." "And what is that?" said I. The elderly man tossed his head proudly, and made no reply.